


A Court of Coffee and Stalker Exes

by ChillinChin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, No Beta we die like Kings, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26169613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillinChin/pseuds/ChillinChin
Summary: Three weeks ago, Feyre broke up with her boyfriend of nine months. At first, she thought it was all over and done with, even though their breakup was a little messy, but after two weeks of radio silence, she presumed he was gone from her life forever. Boy, was she wrong.On a Thursday evening, at a cafe, she sits, drinking Chai Tea and musing over the state of her life when she meets Rhysand, a charming law student who has been left waiting for his cousin Mor to meet for coffee. Who knows what will happen next...
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Morrigan, Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron & Tamlin, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Morrigan & Rhysand (ACoTaR)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	1. Chai Tea and Frappuccinos

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first Feysand fic, and honestly the first thing I've written in a few months, so I'm a little rusty. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going to take this, but it seems to be becoming something totally different from what I expected... I hope you enjoy!

A few measly snowflakes meander from the cloud dotted Fall sky and down onto the window of the small coffee shop I inhabit. Staring out the window, I take a sip from my chai latte and grimace, thinking over the events of the past week.

First, my sisters had come to visit my new, admittedly shabby apartment. Nesta had been her usual bitter self, making snide comments about my job and new living situation. Elaine was the opposite, making her usual oblivious comments which came across as rather polite insults, which were just as hurtful, if not more so, than my eldest sister’s constant needling. The only change in my life that Nesta had approved of, was my break up with Tamlin.

Tamlin, my boyfriend of 9 months, and most recent toxic ex. Our relationship had begun with bouquets of flowers, fancy dinners, and expensive gifts. It had ended in a proposal, a screaming match, and a hasty move to a new apartment.

The second unfortunate event of the week was a voice message from Tamlin, saying that he understood that I had needed time to process, but that he knew I would come back to him and that he wouldn’t let me go. Ever. I try not to think about the other threats and promises that were also recorded on my voicemail. Or about the many calls and messages that came after, once I had left the first unanswered. It had been three weeks since our break-up, and I had been enjoying the radio-silence from Tamlin, which I had hoped would last. But that had been the calm before the storm.

Sighing, I rake a hand through my wavy brown hair, and glance about the half empty shop. It’s an hour to close on a Thursday evening, so I have the place mostly to myself, except for two other university students who are practically plugged into their laptops in the far corner of the store, plus the server who stands behind the till, wiping down the counter, dyed blue hair swaying to the beat of the indie music softly playing throughout the space.

I glance around a bit more, taking note of the brick fireplace which sits at one end of the store, tying together the cozy tone of the establishment. The furniture is mostly soft armchairs and wooden tables. It feels like another world, where the calm of Autumn reigns eternal. The ringing of a bell pierces through the warm air, drawing my attention to the door as a tall, dark haired man slips inside, accompanied by a gust of cold air.

His hair is black and sticking up at random angles, as if the wind had tousled it. And his eyes, his eyes are a dark blue, like the bottom of the ocean, or that of a night sky.

He makes his way to the front to order, eyes landing on me momentarily in my window seat, and he flashes me a smile which sends a wave of butterflies into my stomach. He is devastatingly handsome. My fingers itch to grab a pencil and sketch down his features. Mentally, I scold myself for being so affected, but my eyes remain glued on his tall, lithe frame as I picture how I would paint him. The colour scheme would be dark, I knew, but not menacing, I would soften it with curved lines to make it seem warm, despite the cold tones I would use. His eyes I would paint kind, but with a touch of mystery, like they are now.

Sipping at the last dregs of my latte, I watch him rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting for the caramel frappuccino he’d ordered. 

My phone buzzes, but I strive to ignore it, standing up instead to make my way up to the counter. “Hi, can I get another Chai Latte please?” I say to the girl behind the till, who had just handed the man his sickeningly sweet drink.

“Sure thing! Comes to $4.77” The girl says in the forced cheer typical of customer service. I tap my card, and stand back to wait, finding myself a few feet away from where the man had found a seat.

Looking out of the corner of my eye, I estimate his age to be in his early twenties, perhaps a few years older than myself. He wears a dark, collared jacket over a pair of jeans and a tight fitting cobalt blue top with an illustration of white mountains. His midnight black hair falls partly over his face as he takes a long sip from his venti frappuccino.

“Like what you see, Darling?” He inquires with a mischievous grin, having caught me staring.

“Not as much as you like frappuccinos, from the looks of it.” I shoot back, fighting back a smile as I spy a smudge of whip cream lining his lip.

“Very funny, now I feel like you’re judging my drink choices,” He says, his annoyingly charming smile only widening.

I feel my face redden as I reply, “Well, you don’t really seem like the sugary drink type.”

“I didn’t use to be, but my cousin Mor constantly berated me for my ‘boring’ drink choices that I eventually succumbed to these sugary monstrosities.” He says, laughter dancing in his eyes.

“You and your cousin must be very close if she can dictate what you drink,” I respond, surprising myself by so easily continuing the conversation.

He let out a chuckle at my comment, “Mor is honestly like a sister to me, and she has such a strong personality that I can’t help but listen to her.”

“I have two sisters, but my relationship with them has always been tenuous, it must be nice having someone like that in your life,” I respond, internally shocked at my forwardness.

“It can be both a blessing and a curse, but yes, I guess it is nice.”

I open my mouth to say something more, not quite sure what yet, but something to keep the conversation going when I hear “Your Chai Latte, Miss!”

“Oh!” I say, hurrying towards the counter, “Thank you,” I give her a flustered smile as I take my mug off the counter, turning back to the frappuccino guy.

“It was nice talking to you…” I start, realizing I have no idea what his name is.

“Rhysand, or Rhys- that’s what my friends call me,” He offers with a sheepish smile, “And you are…?”

“Feyre.”

“Fey-ruh,” He stretches out the two syllables, as if testing them out, “Would you like to join me for a bit while I wait for my cousin?”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback by the invitation, “Yes, yeah, sure, why not? I’ll just grab my stuff.” I hurry back over to my seat and grab my bag, quietly laughing at myself for my complete lack of tact.

I return to Rhysand and take the seat opposite him. I feel my phone buzz once again, but continue to ignore it.

“So Feyre, what brings you here on this fine evening?”

“Well, I just recently moved into an apartment on this street, so I wanted to check this place out and try to get some work done, which I, unsurprisingly, have not. What about you? You said you were meeting a cousin?”

He finishes taking another sip from the frappuccino, already half-way through, “Yeah, meeting the lovely Morrigan for coffee… she’s been pressuring me to take a break from studying and get out of the house. And despite hounding me to meet up with her today, she decided to tell me ten minutes ago that she’s gonna be late.”

“That’s too bad,” I say, noticing how intent he looks at me with those deep blue eyes.

“It may be, but I at least have her tardiness to thank for being able to talk to you,” He says with a smirk.

I take a sip of my latte to try and hide the blush that is steadily creeping onto my face. “So, what program is it that keeps you holed up from the outside world?”

“I’m in law school, first year. What about you?”

“Fine Arts, second year. I had to work for a few years after highschool to be able to afford it, but it’s my passion so it’s worth the effort.” 

“That’s admirable, not everyone knows what their passion is, and even fewer choose to pursue it,” He says and a shadow passes behind his eyes, but is gone the instant I notice it. “What type of art are you more into? Do you do animation, realism, abstract…?”

“I prefer painting in a more realistic style, but with fantasy themes. The line of work I’m hoping to get into would be illustrations for books or posters, something like that. And then I’d work on what truly inspires me on the side, like I do know.”

“That’s really cool,” Rhysand says and continues to ask more questions about my schooling. 

We settle into a steady rhythm over the next half hour, discussing school, and our family, and the conversation doesn’t lag for a single second. That is, not until my phone buzzes for the umpteenth time, and Rhys notices, saying “Do you need to answer that? I don’t want to keep you from anything important.”

I grab my phone, and check the notification. Sure enough, there are three more missed calls from Tamlin, a voicemail, and five more texts. I scowl at the screen, then turn it off, looking back up at Rhys. “It’s nothing important, just someone who doesn’t like being told no.” 

His expression turns concerned, and he asks “Is there someone causing you trouble?”

“Not anything I can’t handle,” I respond with a small smile.

The shop has emptied out by now, leaving just the two of us chatting with twenty minutes left to close, but I wish I could have more time talking with Rhys and getting lost in his eyes.

I hear the door open, and the familier bell along with it, followed by a beautiful blonde haired woman who Rhys waves over with a smile, “Mor! What took you so long? The store is about to close.” He stands up as she makes her way over to the table and envelops her into a quick hug.

Once released from her cousin’s embrace, Mor responds, “I am so sorry I’m late. Some issues came up at work and I had to stay to get things in order. I see you’ve made a friend though.”

“Apology accepted. Mor, this is Feyre,” Rhys gestures to me, “Feyre, this is my cousin more that I told you about.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say, reaching out to shake the blonde’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Feyre. I’m sorry to say I’m going to have to steal my cousin away now, as we have many things to discuss.” Mor says with a pointed look at Rhysand.

“Sadly, she’s right,” Rhys says, “I had a wonderful time with you talking though, would you like to exchange numbers?”

“Yes, I’d love to,” I say and tell him my number, which he promptly sends a text to so I can have it in my contacts.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Feyre.” Rhysand says with a grin before Mor promptly drags him away, presumably to discuss some rather ‘pressing’ matters.

I gather up my belongings and leave the coffee shop, strolling down the street, savoring the fall chill in the air until I finally make it to my apartment building which is about thirty years-old, but looks even older. I walk up the stairs to the third floor, crinkling my nose at the smell of stale cigarette smoke and god knows what else. 

Reaching my apartment at last, I pull out my keys, only to notice the door slightly ajar. Heart hammering in my chest, I grab my phone, and push my door open an inch to see inside.

“Hello, Feyre.” An all to familiar voice utters in a menacing tone. “I’ve been wondering why you’ve been dodging my calls.”


	2. A Rotten Kind of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Feyre finding Tamlin waiting in her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter!   
> It's hastily written, but I hope y'alls enjoy!

“Tam,” I say, internally cursing myself for using the nickname, “what are you doing here?” I try to keep my growing fear from creeping into my voice as I slowly edge back to my open front door.

With the ease of one who believes they are above everyone and everything, Tamlin takes a swaggering step forward from the kitchen counter he’d been leaning on a moment before. “I wanted to check up on you Feyre… I was concerned.”

“It is no longer your place to be concerned about me or my life, Tamlin.” I declare, pulling out my phone, ready to call the police if he makes any sudden moves.

A shadow passes over Tamlins face as he continues to advance on me, “The Hell it isn’t. You’re Mine, Feyre; I know it, you know it. The whole Goddamn world knows it! Why can’t you just accept your place at my side and give up at this pathetic excuse for a life,” He shouts, gesturing wildly at my tiny apartment. At the half finished paintings lining the wall below my window. The peeling blue wall paper which the landlord has neglected to replace. The pile dishes I hadn’t had time to clean.

A part of me thinks he might be right… maybe I was being ridiculous, moving to a cramped apartment and working a part-time job while pursuing a degree which would very likely never get me a well paying job. Afterall, living with Tamlin had been like a dream come true… He had paid for everything, we’d attended extravagant parties and socialized in the ‘right’ circles. But… I hadn’t been able to paint for the past six months, I’d felt empty, like a zombie, I hadn’t been myself anymore. I’d been a puppet, and Tamlin had held my strings.

“I’m my own person. You never realized that, did you?” I ask, amazed at myself for finally saying the words that I had left unsaid for months, “People aren’t your belongings, no one owes you anything. So, howabout you get, the Fuck out of my apartment before I call the police to haul your sorry ass out of here!” I raise up my phone for good measure, thumb hovering over the call button.

Anger flashes in his eyes, but he concedes, “fine, Feyre. Have it your way, but this won’t be the last you see of me. You belong with me,” He practically growls, the way he says with sounding painfully close to to.

I back away, hiding my trembling hands as he stalks into the hall. Not waiting to see if he has anything more to say, I slam the door shut and lock it. Having no idea how he could’ve gotten inside, I make a mental note to get more locks added to the door the next day.

The shaking from my hands soon spreads to the rest of my body, and before I realize it, I’m on the floor, unable to focus on anything as I struggle to remember how to breathe. In and out I think to myself, trying and failing to get control.

You’re Mine… You’re Mine… You’re Mine… Those three words continue to echo through my head and all I can picture is his glowering face as he had stalked towards me. You’re Mine… 

“Focus, Feyre… Focus…” Pain radiates from my hands, calling my attention to the nails leaving crescent shaped indents in my palms.

“Breathe,” I command myself… One, two, three, four, five. I count, breathing in, counting to five as I hold the breath, again as I let it out. 

I repeat the breathing exercise for a few more minutes, or perhaps hours. I can’t tell. But eventually it becomes easier to breathe and I am able to stand and walk, albeit shakily, to the kitchen.

It had been years since my last panic attack, since my anxiety had reared its ugly head.. But there it was, like a dormant creature which had finally awoken. All because of Him.

Taking another deep breath, I notice the tears streaming down my cheeks. A sob wracks my body as I quickly fill a glass of water and gulp it down.

Glancing at the clock above my ancient gas stove, I’m surprised to see the time is 11:00 pm already.   
I scramble to brush my teeth and scrub off my makeup, panicking at the thought of my 8:00 am class the next morning.

I’m crawling into bed when I think again of my door with its singular lock that Tamlin must have easily picked. I hesitate, then think to hell with it as I go and drag one of my two kitchen chairs to the front door and prop it under the handle. The locks on my windows are the next thing I check before I finally return to bed.

As I set my alarm, I notice one unread text message from Rhysand, but I resolve to check it tomorrow, when I’m in my right mind. Shutting off the light, I lean back into my pillows and struggle to relax.

With the help of some melatonin, my mind uneasily settles into the realm of sleep, only to be plagued by nightmares of Tamlin shouting at me, kissing me, following me. And those words, You’re Mine continue to play in my ears, my constant companion through the endless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Thank you so much for reading my late night rambles.
> 
> This my first attempt at writing some full on angst, so I hope it turned out okay, and I apologize for the lack of Rhysand in this one... I got kinda carried away. Also, to the reader who commented that Feyre should hit The Tool with a chair, I almost had her do it! Tamlin definitely deserves it (but perhaps I'll put it in a later chapter).
> 
> Also, this is my first time writing a panic attack, so it's not exactly smoothly written, but I did draw from experience so I did my best to make it realistic.
> 
> Anyways, hope everyone is staying safe during these covid times, and thanks again for reading! :)


	3. Changing the Locks on My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre sets a date with Rhysand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> It's been awhile since I updated this, and I just wrote this in the past hour so it is *unedited*
> 
> I should hopefully be updating more often! I don't have any prewritten chapters or plan, so it's more of a go with the flow kinda thing. I may decide on an update schedule though, to make sure I keep writing.
> 
> This chapter is fairly short, but it's getting the ball rolling in the right direction. Please tell me if you like it or if you have any suggestions!
> 
> Enjoy!

The blaring of an alarm yanks me out of an uneasy sleep, prompting me to roll over with a groan and blindly fumble with my phone until it shuts off.  Eyes heavy with sleep, and hair as messy as a vagrant’s, I crawl out of bed with the grace of a snail, and journey to the shower.

“Thank God it’s Friday,” I mutter, hastily rinsing shampoo out of my hair before hopping out of the steamy shower.  Looking in the fogged up mirror, I decide to ignore the fact that I look like a drowned rat before climbing into a pair of paint splattered jeans and pulling on a worn ironman t-shirt.

Ready to leave for class, I take a second to check my phone and see text sent two minutes ago from Rhysand’s number, it reads;

_ Morning Feyre, it was a pleasure talking to you last night, would you like to go for dinner sometime this week? _

Three dots appeared on the bottom left of the conversation as he began to type.

Promptly, the message pops up on my screen;

_ By the way, this is Rhysand. Wasn’t sure if you saved my number _

I feel a flutter in my stomach, not wholly unpleasant, but a definite feeling of anxiety rises up within me. I had not expected to Rhys to text me so soon, or at all for that matter. He seemed too good to be true, not that that was a bad thing… expect for the fact that Tamlin had seemed the same in the beginning-

“-Ugh, snap out of it!” I smack my palm to my forehead, hoping that I could banish those unpleasant thoughts from my mind.

“Tamlin was, is, and will always be a pretentious ass,” I mutter, “Rhys seems nice, easy-going, and an all-around good guy who hasn’t exhibited any dick like tendencies, well, except for being overly confident perhaps… but there is no reason not to go out with him!”

I let out a laugh at my inane outburst, then respond to Rhysand’s text with

_ Of course I saved your number, and yes, dinner sounds great! _

I chew at my lip, waiting for a response before remembering that I need to leave now to head to my Modern Art lecture. I shove my phone in my bag, and hastily return the chair I had propped beneath the door to the kitchen. I lock the door and lightly jog down the stair of my building, making a mental note to call someone about changing my locks.

  
  


***

After my lecture, I head to the library to get started on a newly assigned Modern Art essay. As I walk, I call the number for the closest locksmith, waiting for a few rings until what sounds like an old woman answers with a croaky voice  _ “Lightwood Locksmiths, Angie speaking, how may I help you?” _

“Hi, I’m looking to rekey my locks and hopefully get a few added for good measure.”

_ “Hmm, what type of locks were you wanting added?” _

“Honestly, whatever’s cheapest, I just need a little bit more security.”

_ “Ok Deary, well we’ve got two fairly cheap but sturdy one’s.” _

The conversation continues on for a few more minutes, and I decide on two of the cheaper locks which would only come to about fifty dollars.

“What will the total for everything be?” I ask her finally.

_ With the two locks, the rekeying and Mr. Lightwoods hourly rate, it’ll likely come to round $150.” _

“Ok, and when would he be able to come by to get it all done?”

_ “Looks like he’s available tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 p.m., and it should take him an hour or two. Does that work dear?” _

I raise my eyebrows at the umpteenth “dear” of the conversation, and respond “yes, that works for me.”

_ “Excellent! I’ll schedule that then and let Mr.Lightwood know. We’ll send you the full bill afterwards.” _

I sigh, thinking of the newest expense that would encroach on my narrowing budget. “Thank you so much.”

_ “Happy to help, have a wonderful day dear!” _ The old woman exclaims before I hang up, shoulders sagging.

As I walk up to the library doors, I check my texts. There was a new one from Rhysand, saying:

_ Wonderful! Would you want to do it tomorrow night? _

I smile down at my phone, and reply:

_ Tomorrow works for me, I just have someone doing my locks at 3, so I should be free at 5. _

He begins typing almost immediately, and replies with:

_ Okay, do you want me to go over and meet you at 5? And then we can walk to the restaurant?  _

I reply in the affirmative and send him my address before finally heading into the library to get started on my work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please hit the kudos if you enjoyed it, and comment if you have something to say!
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe, and if you're stressed about school or work or life in general as I am, feel free to comment your woes!
> 
> Have a good night, or afternoon, or morning, depending on when your reading this!


	4. Preparing for a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just what happens before Feyre and Rhysand's date.

It’s 4:30 p.m. and the hunched form of a white haired locksmith is still crouched by my front door. “How much longer do you think this will take Mr. Lightwood? I’ve got a date meeting me here for 5 o’clock.”

“Not too long miss, just another half hour yet,” the old man mumbles as he continues to install what appears to be a heavy duty lock.

Tying half of my hair up into what I hope is a cute, messy, half bun, I reply “Alright, good to hear. And thanks again for booking me in with such short notice, I really appreciate it.”

“Happy I am of some help miss, safety and security is of the utmost importance.”

I shoot a half smile at his back before heading to the bathroom to touch up my makeup. Staring at my reflection, I sigh at the light smudges of purple under my eyes that hadn’t been there a week ago. Sleep… was not coming easy, especially in the last two days. I kept dreaming of Tamlin. Tamlin in my room. Tamlin following me to work. Last night, I even woke up, close to screaming, feeling as though he was on top of me… 

Maybe with the locks changed, sleep will come easier. 

I dab a little more concealer underneath my eyes and hope that Rhysand won’t notice. A few pieces of lint seem to have found their way onto my dress, and I carefully pick them off.

The dress is black and form-fitting. It’s one of my favourites, likely because I’d actually bought it with my own money and it wasn’t one of the many gifts that Tamlin had thrown at me. Looking back on it, Tamlin’s gifts were more like the add-ons to some sort of vacation package than a loving aspect of a relationship.

I’d found the dress at a farmers market a couple months ago, and I was immediately obsessed with how regal it looked with it’s golden embroidery around the cuffs, sleeves, and neckline. Looking in the mirror, I can only think that I look like some overtired girl who is barely keeping her life together, albeit with one hell of a dress.

“Let’s try and be more optimistic during this date Feyre,” I mutter to myself, knowing I’ve definitely got a few screws loose, “No doom and gloom tonight, and remember, not every guy is an asshole.” 

Checking my phone, I note that it’s 4:50 before hearing a knock at the front door.

“Welp, looks like he’s here, for better or for worse.”

I walk to the front door and find Mr. Lightwood packing up his things. “Perfect timing,” I say to the Locksmith, smiling as I open the front door to find Rhysand in a black t-shirt and ripped blue jeans.

“Well, it seems that I’m a bit overdressed, now doesn’t it?” I greet him, bemused.

“Wellll,” He says with a sheepish grin, “I guess I forgot to mention which restaurant I had in mind, but you look perfect nonetheless.”

Just as I’m about to reply, Mr. Lightwood shuffles past me and into the hall, mumbling “Angie’ll send ya the bill tomorrow miss, have a goodnight.”

“Thank you so much!” I call after him, and return my gaze to Rhysand, whose brow is furrowed in confusion.

He looks down the hall at the retreating old man, “Who…?”

“The Locksmith,” I reply.

“Oh yeah, you mentioned,” Rhysand chuckles, before asking “Why did you need your locks changed anyway?” He glances at the door, eyes widening at the sight of three brand new locks adorning the old door. “And why did you need so many- was there a break in?” He asks worriedly, before catching himself. “Sorry if that’s super intrusive, it’s jus-”

“No no, it’s ok,” I assure him, before deciding that I may as well tell him the truth now and make him aware of my crap ton of baggage right from the get go. “Two nights ago, someone broke in… well, not just anyone, it was my ex boyfriend.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. Are you alright? Did you call the police?” He asks hurriedly, with a mixture of worry and uncertainty.

“I’m doing ok, but it sucks, a ton. I haven’t called the police, I’m not sure if they would even do anything at this point. It’s not like I have any evidence of him breaking in…. I’d just sound like some crazy ex girlfriend trying to get revenge or something.” 

“If it happens again, you should call the police. This guy is a threat to you, and creeps like that deserve a hell of a punishment.”

I give him a sad smile, and reply “If there is a next time, which I hope there isn’t, I won’t hesitate to call 911.”

“Good.” He states, eyes dark and serious, “Well, we better get going, if that’s ok with you. I think you’ll love this restaurant.”

“Alright, I’ll just grab my jacket and purse, one sec,” I say before bounding back into my apartment to grab my things.

I come back to the hallway and quickly lock the door with the three new keys which Mr. Lightwood Had left on the counter. 

Once I turn around and straighten out my dress, Rhysand offers me his arm with his classic smile, and I refuse, smirking as I say “While that is rather knight-like of you, I’d prefer to walk without any gentlemanly assistance tonight.”

Rhysand lets out a huff of a laugh before we make our way out of the building, side by side, and into the chill evening air in search of his mystery restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sporadic updates, but I've slowly been falling out of love with this ship lately, but I'm committed to finishing this, no matter how long it takes. I hope you enjoyed this chapter though, and I intend to update again in the next week.
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe and are having a good holiday!


End file.
